


Season 7 Stuff And Nonsense

by Byrcca



Series: Stuff and Nonsense [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrcca/pseuds/Byrcca
Summary: A collection of missing scenes from the s. 7 episodes, likely not in order, because there can never be too many.





	1. Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> There’s a lot of little stuff floating around my head that doesn’t fit into any of my current projects. I’ve decided to challenge myself to write short, missing scenes and codas for every episode of Voyager. We’ll see how that goes.

~~~

“If the timeline is restored, the rest of us should have no memory of what's happened here. So I'd like to thank you now for putting your doubts aside, and helping me put mine aside as well. Good luck to each of you.”

They’d filed out of engineering, leaving the Captain and Chakotay behind, and bunched up in the turbolift. “Deck two,” Tom called. He leaned against the ‘lift wall and looked at her, arms folded across his chest.

“What are you staring at, Paris?” She all but snarled. 

Tight leather vest, even tighter pants, those boots. Her flashing eyes and that attitude for days. Years. He’d almost forgotten. He just smiled. 

“What are you doing in that uniform? I knew we couldn’t trust you!”

_Bring it on_ ,Tom thought. His smile turned into a smirk best described as smug. She’d be wearing the same uniform in a couple of days. 

“And what’s that?” She jabbed an impatient finger at his left hand. 

Tom glanced down at his wedding ring, waggled his fingers, caressed it with his thumb. “Oh this? Just a gift from a friend,” he drawled, his tone heavy with seduction. 

Her eyes narrowed as her brows drew together. She was glorious, his B’Elanna! “You’re married and you’re flirting with me? Poor, stupid woman. You really are a pig, Paris!” 

Ayala shifted, and Tom saw him stiffen. He looked enormous in his Maquis clothes. Tom remembered that he had a wife and two kids back in the Alpha Quadrant, and a protective streak when it came to B’Elanna. He toned it down. He shot a glance at Harry, fresh faced and fluorescent green, but he only looked confused. No help there. 

The ‘lift doors opened on deck two and Tom stepped out. She’d missed her deck. “See you later, Torres,” he tossed over his shoulder. “We should have dinner some time.”

“Not in this lifetime, _petaQ_!” she hurled at him just as the ‘lift doors closed. 

_Well_ , Tom considered, _she’s right about that_. Soon, this lifetime would end, or never exist at all; this sort of stuff was confusing. Soon, the ship won’t have been blown to ratshit. Soon, Tuvok would be alive again. Soon, he’d be making dinner for his wife. 

***


	2. Endgame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An otherwise homeless missing scene from Endgame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Tom is Chaotic Neutral and rules don’t apply to him.

“Admiral!” He loped down the corridor, stopping beside her as she turned, his fingers brushing her arm. She was warm, solid, real. It was crazy, but really, no crazier than anything else that had happened in the last seven years. 

“Tom.” She smiled, the affection in her voice palpable. Her eyes flicked to his hair, then back to his face. 

He smiled back, shook his head. “Weird is…”

“Part of the job,” she finished. “What is it, Tom?”

He had a feeling she knew. She could read him like the old fashioned hard cover books that she had such an affinity for. “I wanted...I mean… This is kind of—“

“Irregular? You wouldn’t be asking me about the future would you, Tom?” Her eyebrow rose, the action so familiar that any doubts he’d harboured were washed away. 

“You’re not going to lecture me on the Temporal Prime Directive are you, Admiral?

She laughed. “You’ve always been a charming thorn in my side, Mister Paris.” She touched his chest, gave it a little pat. 

_Always been_. He caught the verb tense and felt relief wash through him. At that reassurance his mind leapt to a new fear. “Is B’Elanna—”

“As fierce and brilliant as she ever was,” she confirmed. “Now stop.” She turned but Tom stepped in front of her to block her path. 

“What I really wanted to know is, will our daughter be okay?”

Janeway sighed. The sincerity in his eyes, the carefully guarded fear was her undoing. “She’s wonderful.” Tom wilted with relief, and she fought the urge to fold him into a firm hug. Twenty-three years had broken down the barriers, and she was fighting the impulse to morph into _Aunt Kathryn_.

“She’s brave, and brilliant, and a force of nature! She has her mother’s brain and her father’s sense of humour, God help us. Now I really can’t say any more.”

Tom nodded, smiling, wrapped up in his imaginings of his future daughter. His head snapped up. “Do we have any more—”

She brought her hand up in full Admiral mode, silencing him. “Stand down, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks,” he said softly. 

“Any _time_ , Tom,” she stressed, and his mouth quirked at the pun.


	3. Homestead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A missing scene for s7 Homestead. Set between the scene where Naomi assures Neelix she’s not a little girl anymore, and the one where Janeway comes into the messhall with her own brand of encouragement for Neelix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ _I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun._ ”
> 
> Luckily, Tom does remember.

~~~

 

“Tom? Can I ask you something?”

Tom looked up from the padd he’d been reading. When they’d first learned of B’Elanna’s pregnancy, the Doctor had overloaded them with advice. Tom had reviewed the texts on Klingon physiology and pregnancy, his wife’s condition being his primary concern, then read the sparse articles on raising a Klingon child. It appeared to involve a lot of repetition of Klingon myths and legends, as well as a healthy dose of lectures about honourable behaviour. No wonder B’Elanna had rebelled. 

But lately he’d dared to switch to a classic on raising human children—his daughter was three quarters human, after all. So far, there wasn’t anything that struck him as too out there, it was all pretty common sense advice. Which was a shame really, because he was looking for something a little more concrete. 

“Sure, Neelix.” He placed the padd on the table and smiled at his friend. 

“No B’Elanna this evening?” 

“Working,” Tom confirmed. “I plan to kidnap her from engineering and take her home in half an hour.”

“I don’t want to interrupt…” Neelix gestured to the padd. 

“Oh, it’s okay. I was just reading about babies. Baby care, actually. You know, three am feedings, burping, how to not psychologically scar them for life.” He smiled to take the edge off his joke, and pointed to the seat across from him.

As he sat, Neelix gestured to the padd. “May I? _Doctor Spock’s Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care_ , 127th edition. Oh my. Sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.”

“Or it took him a hundred and twenty-seven tries to get it right,” Tom commented dryly. 

“Spock. Is he Vulcan?”

“Ah,” Tom grinned. “No. Human.”

“Mmmm…” Neelix nodded. He tapped a control on the padd. “ _Trust yourself, you know more than you think you do._ That sounds like good advice.” He kept reading. “ _Parents are human._ Well, I suppose some are.” 

Tom smiled again. “He means flawed, imperfect. It’s a saying. ‘You’re only human’ not divine, I suppose. Is this what you wanted to ask me?” Tom gestured to the padd, then raised his coffee cup to his mouth and took a sip. 

“No, not really.” Neelix placed the padd back on the table. “But it does tie in.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s intriguing. Shoot.”

Neelix looked pensive for a moment, like he wasn’t sure how to phrase his question. “How did you...when did you first know that you were in love with B’Elanna?”

It wasn’t at all what Tom had been expecting. Something about B’Elanna’s due date, maybe. Or a shuttle for the Talaxians. Or even something about weapons systems so they could defend themselves from Nocona and the other miners, but not this. “I… What’s this about, Neelix?” Tom knew that his friend had given Dexa and Brax a tour of the ship today, Naomi had even commed him to tell him how much fun she and Brax had had running his new programme on the holodeck. And now Tom wondered what Neelix and Dexa had got up to while Brax was occupied.

“When… ” Neelix pressed. “I mean, when were you sure?”

B’Elanna. Tom opened his mouth, then laughed. “Actually, it was right here, in the mess.”

“Really?” Neelix looked delighted, like he’d been responsible. 

“Right over there.” He nodded at a table near the front of the room. “She was,” he smiled and raised his mug, “drinking coffee and reading a padd.” He had a dreamy expression on his face, remembering. “She had a braid in her hair, in the front, here.” He raised his left hand and waggled his fingers beside his ear. “God, she looked…soft. Warm.” He felt his cheeks flush and focused on Neelix, expecting him to laugh or at least warn him not to say that too loudly, especially where one of her staff could overhear, but Neelix was just watching him intently with a serious expression in his eyes.

“I’d been attracted to her for months, you know?” Tom continued.

Neelix smiled warmly and patted Tom’s forearm. “I think I can safely say that everyone onboard knew, Tom,” he teased.

“Yeah, well. We had a little tug of war over the padd and I won.”

“One of her engineering reports?” Neelix asked.

“More like a technical manual,” Tom smiled, remembering. “She was embarrassed, and there was something about the way she tried hide it, then sort of dared me to say anything. And suddenly, I realized that I was in love with her. That all I wanted, all I’d ever want, was her.”

Neelix nodded. “It sounds so easy,” his tone was pensive, and Tom laughed. 

“Trust me, Neelix, B’Elanna and I have never been _easy_.”

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed. “You’ve been in love before, haven’t you?”

“Sure,” Tom agreed. “Well, I thought I was. But with B’Elanna it’s different. It’s always been different. I knew then that I didn’t want to be with anyone else. That I was done looking.” 

“I loved Kes but it was...different. Possessive.” He glanced sheepishly at Tom. “It wasn’t comfortable, not like you and B’Elanna.”

Tom nodded remembering Neelix’ obsessive jealousy over Kes, remembered bearing the brunt of it. Remembered too that it was an away mission and an alien baby that had finally brought them together and allowed them to become friends. Life really was a circle. 

“I guess Kes wasn’t the one for you.”

Neelix looked sad for a moment. “No, I guess not.” 

“You know, after that day in the mess, I didn’t do it often, but it wasn’t long before I started thinking about babies with big brown eyes.” Tom felt a flush of embarrassment, and tried to cover it. “Which, as it turns out, was pretty silly because the baby has my eyes.” 

“I’ve been wondering lately what my children would look like; what it would be like to have a son,” Neelix confessed.

“Pretty great, I’d think. Brax is a great kid.”

“You look cozy.” B’Elanna walked up to their table and slid an arm around Tom’s shoulders. He placed a hand on her belly as she leaned down and kissed him. “What are you two talking about?”

“Love,” Tom replied. “The human condition. How I’m the luckiest man in the Delta Quadrant.” He smiled at her, and she tilted her head to the side. 

“Just the Delta Quadrant?”

“The universe, known and unknown, and multiple parallels thereof, including the first through ninth dimensions.” He grinned at her, his eyes lit with merriment. 

“Sure,” she snorted. She glanced at the padd. “How’s Doctor Spock?”

“He assures me I’m a child-rearing genius. Who knew it was so easy?”

“Easy? Oh. Okay.” She shifted a bit and bopped Tom on the arm with her belly. 

“Would you like something to eat?” Neelix asked, standing and offering her his seat. “It’s no trouble.”

“No, thank you,” she rubbed her belly and looked at her husband. “I think I’m ready to go home.” 

Tom stood and reached for the padd. He slid his arm around B’Elanna’s waist and stepped away from the table, then paused. “Neelix?”

“Yes, Tom?” 

Tom’s face was soft with understanding. “Trust yourself.” 

Neelix smiled and nodded. “I know more than I think I do.”

“Yeah.” He turned to the door, then paused and let go of B’Elanna and stepped toward his friend. He hugged Neelix quickly and patted him on the back. “G’nite,” he said, releasing him and rejoining his wife. 

“Good night, Tom. B’Elanna.”

“Don’t stay up too late,” B’Elanna admonished gently. 

“I won’t. I’ll just tidy up a bit.” He waved a hand to encompass the dining hall and kitchen, reached to pick up Tom’s abandoned coffee cup. He heard the door hiss closed behind them as he crossed to the kitchen and squatted down behind the counter. “Computer, dim the lights,” he said. 

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote at the beginning of the story is Darcy in _Pride and Prejudice_ , by Jane Austin, of course.
> 
> Just for fun, go watch that scene again (Real Life?) and check out the way he looks at her. Well played, RDM.


	4. Friendship One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ode to Joe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though it was never mentioned in cannon, someone, somewhen, decided that Ayala’s first name was Mike. Fannon decided that Mike Ayala and Joe Carey became friends during their seven years in the Delta Quadrant. 
> 
> This ficlet nagged me while I was writing Been There... and now that I’ve finished that, here this is, short but complete, raw and unbetaed, written in about two hours (the fireworks interrupted). 
> 
> Goodbye Joe, gone too soon and far too cruelly.

It began as a ripple of awareness and motion, moving through engineering from workstation to workstation. Someone would approach someone else, words would be exchanged, and they would both turn to look at her, shock etched in their expressions. There was a wariness, a stillness, as if they were all concerned but unwilling to approach her. Sue Nicoletti took a step, then stopped and turned away. 

She straightened her shoulders and glanced away. Everyone knew that Tom was being held hostage on the planet. Everyone always knew everything. _There are no secrets on a ship this size._ Tom had said it often enough; look at how quickly people had figured out that they were expecting. She dropped a hand to her swollen belly and raised her chin. 

“I’ll be in my office,” she said. Vorik nodded. He, at least, hadn’t commented. He’d looked at her, once, judged her mood, and had stayed blessedly silent. 

She hadn’t quite reached her office when the doors to engineering opened and the captain strode in, her posture ramrod straight, her face set. B’Elanna felt her breath catch. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head, and her vision darkened, blackness crawling over her field of vision replacing the brightness of engineering, light sparking and flashing in her eyes. She groaped one handed for a console, seeking support. It was like a starfield, she thought, like the vista she and Tom had been floating in when the Caatati had destroyed their shuttle on the Day of Honor four years ago. 

Janeway saw her, and smiled slightly, changing direction and heading right for her. B’Elanna shook her head. “No,” she said. And again, stronger, a command, “No!”

“He’s fine,” Kathryn said, reaching for her, grasping her arms. “Tom’s fine.” She was Kathryn now, friend, confidant, not Captain Janeway. 

Relief swamped her, making her weak, giddy. She sucked a breath, her fingers scrabbling over Kathryn’s uniformed belly, seeking purchase. Needing something to grasp. Kathryn quickly released her arm and clasped her hand in both of hers. “He’s still being held on the planet, but Tom’s okay.”

B’Elanna sent up a little prayer to her father’s Catholic god thanking him for his mercy. Her little girl would have a father. But the captain’s expression wasn’t lightening, she looked serious, regret shading her eyes and the line of her mouth. 

“What?” B’Elanna asked. Had they threatened him? Had they beaten him? She steeled herself for bad news, tightening, drawing away from her captain’s brand of comfort. 

“It’s Joe,” Kathryn said. The sadness in her eyes was underlaid with anger now. 

“Is he hurt?” She didn’t really want to know, didn’t want Janeway to confirm what she already knew. 

“They shot him. He’s dead.” 

B’Elanna shook her head, denying it. She’d just seen him, not two hours ago, in sickbay, grinning at her, siding with Tom in their discussion on whether or not B’Elanna should accompany them on the away mission. “No,” she said, aware that she was bargaining with the fates, “no, it’s a mistake. They’re lying, trying to intimidate us.”

Kathryn clasped her hand again, gripped her upper arm, offering support. “No. We beamed his body back. He’s in sickbay.”

“But…” B’Elanna threw up her hands, throwing off Janeway’s support. She took a step, halted. “Seven!” she exclaimed, turning back to face her. “Her nanoprobes can bring him back! Neelix was dead for…for…”

Janeway was shaking her head. “No. I’m afraid that won’t work. There was too much damage.” She reached for her again, but B’Elanna evaded her.

“Of course it will work. They can be programmed to repair tissue. It’s their purpose. It’s what they do!” How did Janeway not understand? “We have to hurry, though. Where is she?” 

B’Elanna looked around, as if expecting to see Seven pop up from behind the warp core and wave. Everyone was looking at them. Everyone was looking at her. 

“B’Elanna, please, come sit down.” She was tugging her toward her office, guiding her gently the way Tom sometimes did, the way that always irritated her, as if she couldn’t walk on her own, decide _where_ she wanted to go on her own. B’Elanna held up a hand, dug in her heels. 

“He was shot through the heart with an antimatter disrupter. There was nothing left for nanoprobes to repair.” The anger had evaporated from Kathryn’s expression, replaced by sorrow. B’Elanna saw her bottom lip quiver before she tightened her mouth. 

“No,” B’Elanna’s voice rose in a sob. She was begging now, knowing it was pointless. The captain wouldn’t have come unless she was sure. _Kathryn_ wouldn’t have come. Tears rushed into her eyes, spilling down her cheeks, and she raised a hand to her mouth to hold back her breath. 

Kathryn wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to her office and guided her to her chair.

~~

B’Elanna flew down the corridor, running to sickbay. Someone stepped out of her way, a flash of blue and black, then they were behind her. She burst through the doors sideways—they’d barely opened in time to prevent her from running into them—and skidded to a stop, her eyes darting from the surgical bay to the Doctor’s office, to the biobeds off to the right. He was right there, sliding off the bed, his arms opening, taking a step toward her. 

She was in his arms before she realized she’d moved, her nose buried in his throat, her hands gripping his uniform. His arms had come around her, and he held her in a firm embrace, rocking her gently, sushing her quietly. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” He was kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her cheek. He smoothed a hand down her hair. “I’m okay,” he repeated. He drew back and gazed at her, his eyes meeting hers, cupping her wet cheeks. “Hey, where’s my big tough Klingon?”

A laugh burst from her, wet and harsh, and she shook her head, burrowing closer into his warmth. Her arms went around his back and she stood there, breathing him in, her ear against his chest, listening to his heart beat strong and steady. 

He kissed her hair, hugged her tighter. “Joe,” he began, his voice breaking.

She shook her head, denying it, squeezing her eyes shut, thanking all the gods that he was here, and whole, and hers.

~~ 

She hadn’t felt like eating but Tom had fretted, tempted her with potato salad and fried chicken, so she’d chewed and swallowed. It tasted like dust and ashes. She was eating for two, after all. For one, right now. He’d spoken of the woman on the planet, of her baby, so small and ill. She hadn’t wanted to look at him in sickbay, hadn’t wanted to care. He could grow up to kill someone. Someone’s friend, their right hand. 

After dinner they had sat, exhausted, and he’d held her, silent, grieving. The door chime had sounded and she’d wanted to ignore it, assuming it was Harry checking up on Tom, silently cursing her friend. Tom had stood, called for the computer to open the door, to welcome their guest. It wasn’t Harry.

Mike Ayala strode in, tight, angry, exuding impatience. His eyes found Tom, halfway to the door, and he rushed to him, grabbing him by the shirtfront, shaking him, before B’Elanna could even rise from the couch. 

“Who was it?” he shouted, shaking Tom again like a terrier with a rat. “What’s his name?”

“Mike.” Tom’s voice was soft, his tone measured, placating. His hands were up, palm out, a gesture of submission.

“Tell me his name!” Ayala shouted, shaking Tom, shoving him against a wall, Mike’s face in his, a snarl twisting his features. “You tell me who did it!” One hand dropped to the phaser at his hip.

B’Elanna was on her feet, pulling Ayala away, her fingers a vice on his arm, ready to hurt him, ready to draw blood. He turned to swat her away, and paused, stared at her, his eyes registering her, his face crumpling under the burden of emotion. 

He shook his head, let go of Tom. Stumbled. His pain rose up, a living thing welling up and bursting from inside of him, and he reached for her, clung to her. She guided him to the couch, pushed him to sitting, gathered him in her arms, tried to comfort. An old friend; she’d known him almost ten years. He was still a mystery. 

“I hate this place,” he cried. “I want my wife, my kids. I hate this fucking place! I want to go home!” He was openly crying now, great heaving sobs that shook his shoulders and back. His face was buried against B’Elanna’s belly, his arms around her middle, and she was holding him too, her hands soothing his back while she rested her cheek on his hair. 

“He was my best friend,” Mike whispered, his voice breaking. “My best friend.”

~~


End file.
